Zoya Siddiqui has over protective parents. Zoya seems to be the ideal entreprenur of Mumbai, India. Confident, brave and a caring boss. But she has a soft side too, a side which is filled with darkness, and sadness, with the past she tries to forget every time she closes her eyes.
All she sees with her eyes close is two coffee like eyes, that charming smile, those strong but gentle hands she found solace in and lastly, the voice.
the voice had a magical effect, touching the strings of her heart and increasing the space that Zoya had kept for that face, that heart, that…for…him..
But now she had to open her eyes, face the reality. Where was she? She was in Mumbai. However much she wished, she thought, she cried, no one understood her deepest feelings. Other than him. Or was that a lie too? Zoya felt she was surrounded with the wall of lies, not being able to forget the betrayals given by various people close to her, especially her Husband, with whom she thought she was in a perfect marriage with. Little did she know that he would ask for her heart and use a hammer to break it with the painful flames of the fire.
She was heartbroken, more than anybody, blaming herself, crying. No one understood her pain. No one sympathised with her. But one day those tears never came back. She became strong, but still soft at heart. Zoya Siddiqui was who she was today because of one person; Aditya Hooda, whom she shared an inexplicable bond with.
Aditya Hooda. His family was breaking apart, his marriage was breaking apart, he was breaking apart. But still, he seemed to be the strongest man in all the problems he faced. He didn’t bother to stop the ongoing divorce of his parents, he didn’t bother to stop the domestic violence his mother in law was facing by his Mother, he didn’t bother to understand his Wife. He was just so tired of thinking of all this. He didn’t have the power to do anything. To share anything. He was just a physical material, crumbling himself in the solace of his knees, regretting his life decisions, regretting his existence. He thought he had tried. But no one had tried for him. No one had understood what he really wanted. All they wanted was his happiness. For what? For, that was not his true happiness.
Zoya and Aditya were destined to meet.
Two heartbroken souls needed one another to mend their hearts. They were perfect for eachother. No one knew that. Aditya’s snobbish parents had no time for family, but only parties, social gatherings, for they had to uphold HarshVardhan Hooda’s apparent prestige. Aditya hid and locked himself in a room, blocked his ears, sat in one corner and cried for hours, and soon, suffered from severe sleep deprivation. Zoya too, an emotional wreck, lay straight on her bed, shivering, cold, from the aircon temperature she had put at 12 degrees. She wanted to freeze herself to death, she does not deserve to live, love and laugh. All that once existed in her life was now far far away, mostly dead.
The only thing which kept her skin alive was her late Husband’s memories, rolling into a ball of sadness, clinging onto the last mark of him.
On two opposite sides in the same city, two heartbroken souls dreaded their existence, and found that the calm rain would poach their excessive tears. There was only one way out from all this pain, freedom from all this tension, problems. And that was; Psychatrist Deanna Mathur. Their mutual Best Friend, but yet, Aditya and Zoya hadn’t. It was god’s plan to meet them when they needed eachother most. Probably, it was for love.
Filling up the small form the receptionist gave them, Aditya and Zoya sat next to eachother unknowingly, in nervous tears, playing with the sides of the paper, looking at two different sides. They were so close, yet so far. Zoya felt timid, but she knew this would be in her best interest. The receptionist unpleasantly shouted “Zoya Siddiqui”. Zoya panicked, assembled her things, stuffing her book inside, wiping her sweat, wearing her heels, and walks in a rush. Just as she is walking away, her duppata gets stuck in one of the chairs, as she struggles to untangle it. Aditya helps. “Relax, you’re going to see a psychiatrist after all” he said, in a depressed and sad tone. For Zoya, it was offensive. How could a stranger, possibly comment? Talk to her! She was so angry, so insecure. And then she realised, she was hurt, and she was venting her anger on the wrong person. It was best, if she just continued crumpling her duppata, nervously walking into the room. And so she did.
The room gave a sense of fear into Zoya. She slowly walked in, as Psychiatrist Mathur told her to take out a picture of the person she seems to be disturbed by, and share all her feelings of pain and anger. Happiness or excitement, which were obviously not prominent in her case. She dug through her bag, and she went through her bag, chose an object which seemed like a frame, and struggled to take it out. When she finally took it out, she realised it. It wasn’t her late Husband, Yash, but instead, some lady, young lady, with a beautiful blue saree,flowing like a Bollywood heroine, in a beautiful garden, which seemed self decorated. Her hair, jet black, straight, flying in sync with the wind. Deanna continued.. she is?
All Zoya could do was cry, shocked, picked up her things and ran out. It was embarrassment, or sadness? Zoya didn’t know herself. She then saw, Yash’s photo recklessly dangling from Aditya’s hand, while he nervously searched for Pooja’s photo. Zoya walked up to him, eyes bloodshot because of tears, bravely passed the photo to him and asked him for Yash’s photo by her eyes, which were now filled with anger, embarassment,and of course sadness.
(Hi guys!im back with a new ff with bepannah! I know I completely went missing for 2 years:) but I’m sure all the KRPKAB fans are now watching bepannah like me haha, well just to give a quick update of me for new readers and also my friends from 2 years ago, my name is Nishi Malhotra and I’m a 11 year old girl who lives in Singapore with her dad and her older sis:))
hope u enjoy my following episodes of this ff’:)thank u so much!:)oh btw, to avoid copyright infringement, I would like to mention that the thumbnail this FF has IS NOT mine but instead it belongs to diljot_grewal who happened to be part of my “explore posts” section on Instagram.